Getting through
by MyLittleFangirlWorld
Summary: /"You're going to do great, alright? A Haddock never falls? Just try to think of something else and I'll be there the entire time and-!" "Dad, you don't need to worry. Cancer may have started this fight but I am going to be the one finishing it."/ . . . Modern AU shots circling around Hiccup getting cancer. Father/son bonding, HiccupxAstrid, angst.
1. Receiving the news

***Clears throat*. Everyone...**

 **IT'S HICCUPS BIRTHDAY! (29th February and it won't happen again for four years!)**

 **Well, depending on what country you're in with the time differences... And if you're reading this when it's posted... BUT STILL! CONGRATS DRAGON-BOY! :D :D :D**

 **So therefor I started this!**

 **But on a much more serious note: cancer is horrific. Horrible. Everything around that. And we all know this. It's just important to remember for those who have cancer or another sickness or know someone who has, never give up. And everyone has already heard this too, but there's a reason; it's so important to keep on fighting. I'm aware that those who have do, and that's true strength.**

 **But if this story can be upsetting or trigging to anyone, then I recomend to not read. This isn't meant to give any pain in any form.**

 **Thankyou.**

 _This isn't going to be a story that is built up and exciting. This isn't meant to have excited turns and plot twists, interesting character development or any bad guys. This is just a regular story, an everyday story, about a sixteen year old boy diagnosed with blood cancer. That's not a secret, not something that's surprisingly is going to come in the end of the chapter. Because still this isn't just a story. It's one which happens over and over all across the world everyday. And sadly in_ _those, not everything goes the way it should. And they certainly don't always end happily._

There was this book that Hiccup and his class read almost two years ago. " _The fault in our stars_." He'd never been particularly fond of sad books, he liked to watch things from the bright sides and be happy besides everything that went on around him. Some in his class cried during the reading and some who were 'to cool to have feelings' would just joke around and mess with the entire concept. There was this one sentence in this book that Hiccup didn't even realize he'd memorized until he himself was diagnosed. " _There is only one thing in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer._ "

And he wouldn't know. He was diagnosed at that precise age and knew in and out how awful it was. Though indeed did he realize how hard this was for his dad too.

Stoic had maybe not always been the best parent. His wife died eight years ago and he was left with an eight year old, different from himself in every way possible. Different from the other children too, playing with science and drawing in a notebook. Being so skinny and smart also made him a big bully target. Stoic himself used to be very popular as a child, so he was left with no idea of what to do. So maybe he missed a lot of signs, lies and bruises and crying and loneliness, just because he didn't have much experience with any of it. To copy with Val's death he also buried himself in work, so he didn't really spend overly much time with his son. Still the boy meant the world to him. So if someone just walked up to you and said Stoic didn't really care; that person lied. So even if the man could seem harsh and was an awful listener, it didn't mean the news didn't crush him too.

"Mr. Haddock, Hiccup. You may come in now," said the doctor the two had started to know as Dr. Tranct as she look

ed up from her papers to the two. Both males stood up and Stoic put a hand on the small of his sons back to guide him towards the open the door to the doctors room. When they entered it was light with the white walls and a big window facing the clear sky, still a orange roof lamp went fully.

"Thank you," Hiccup said politely as he entered, Stoic following tightly behind before closing the, white as practically everything else, door. They'd met Dr. Tranct before, she was one of the people who'd helped them that night when Stoic rushed his son to the emergency and later two times when they took different blood tests or pulse and so on. Today they'd been called to hear if there was any results of the tests. Stoic had been nervous the entire time and he could tell Hiccup was a bit on edge too.

By the look on the doctors face, solemn but it couldn't hide the pity and sadness in her eyes that hadn't been there the other sessions, the results could already be said as not overly positive. Still, Stoic couldn't make himself imagine it as something worse than nut-allergy or something.

Dr. Tranct gestured for the two to sit down on the same places as the other meetings, Hiccup on the paper covered stretcher and on the opposite side, Stoic in the only blue chair next to the doctor with her black computer fitted one.

"So how are you feeling today, Hiccup? Please add on a scale of one to ten, ten being absolutely terrible and one being completely fine." The doctor asked as she held a chart with her left hand and a pencil in the right one with a seemingly very forced smile.

"Pretty okay, maybe a four," Hiccup said and Tranct took a quick note.

Stoic studied his sons face for a moment. He'd come to learn that Hiccup more often denied than not if he weren't fine. Stoic really couldn't blame the lad, after all, he was the one who raised him that way. ' _Don't make them see you weak. You fall, get crushed or bleed, stand up. A Haddock is tough. We don't even fall in the first place_.' Afterwards, maybe that wasn't the best thing to repeat to a seven year old. But he was just in his own way trying to stop all the bullying Hiccup had faced through the years, standing up for himself and be stronger than the opponent was simply the way Stoic had come to handle those kinds of situations. Problem was, Hiccup didn't have a vengeful or angry cell in him.

Though as Stoic got better at recognizing one or two signs, like how Hiccup would sit a little less straight if he lied, the boy also got better at hiding the signals. Not that the sit-straight-thing would have helped much anyway, ever since Hiccup passed out two weeks ago he'd been pretty much everything around tired and exhausted. Poor lad had problem staying awake and his head would spin so much that he'd actually went straight into a wall more than once.

Needless to say, Stoic had been a bit anxious at finding out what the problem was. In his mind it was a lack of iron or an allergy of some sort. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some pills or adjusted diet. So leaning slightly forward the father asked straight out; So, have you found out what the problem is?"

The forced smile on Trancts tanned face lowered and the doctor sighed heavily before lowering her chart and watching the duo symphaticly. "Yeah, we've got the results." She paused to sigh once again before continuing. "Im very sorry to announce that... Hiccup's got acute leukemia, lymphatic... A form of blood cancer."

Now, Stoic didn't exactly understand everyone of those words but that didn't matter because the last one rang loudly in his ears over and over. _Cancer_. His little baby boy had _cancer?!_

Everything went completely silent. It was a joke. No, a misunderstanding! That's what it was, just a weird, simple misunderstanding! Of course! Stoic stared at the doctor for a few seconds, waiting for her to laugh and say "nah just kidding, give the lad some penicillin and he'll be good as new!" But she didn't say anything else, just a small mumbled condolence and a gentle pat to the boys back before leaving the room to give some privacy. Only when the door closed did Stoic finally come to his senses and whipped his head to face his only child.

Hiccup was sitting completely still, head lowered to be staring at the floor with emerald green eyes even bigger than they usually were, hands on the edge of the stretcher in white death grips.

Stoic got up from the chair and slowly walked the minimal distance to place his one enormous hands over Hiccups small, bony ones. Hiccup didn't let go, nor did he look up.

Not wasting another moment the father threw his arms around his boy who was buried in his big frame. Holding on in the embrace tight Stoic could feel the uneven and quick breaths of his son, thin shoulders starting to tremble ever so slightly. Stoic could feel his own hands shake and his mouth slightly ajar, head still willing it not to be true. How could it? Cancer was something that happened in those sad movies that Stoic never watched, to those kids he'd never seen in a tragic commercial. It wasn't real, just a nightmare. And now it'd happened to his baby.

Resting his chin on top of Hiccups head he slowly started rocking back and forward. Meanwhile his head couldn't even begin to process what his heart had already broken for.

 **A/N: Please leave reviews, it'll me much more motivation :)**

 **Keep being awesome dragonites**!


	2. Comprehending

**A/N: No need to till me, I know it's been forever since I updated. If anyone cares for a reason, I was with of a skiing accident and injured my head. I'm okay now but that's the reason I haven't written in forever. I'm sorry for that.**

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 **Another thing, when I read the reviews, one or two seemed to think that this story is based of a real persons story. And I want to explain this quickly, it's not. This is a fanfiction from my mind though about a subject that thousands and thousands of people have lived through in real life.**

" _This is just a regular story, an everyday story, about a sixteen year old boy diagnosed with blood cancer. That's not a secret, not something that's surprisingly is going to come in the end of the chapter. Because still. this isn't just a story. It's one that actually happens everyday, and in those, not everything goes the way it should. And they certainly don't always end happily."_

 **I'm apologize if I was unclear in this part and about this**.

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Hiccup sighed as he turned of the television. Not because there wasn't anything good on, but because the tv failed its purpose of distracting him. That's basically everything he'd done the past four days, trying to get his mind of the news he recently received. That didn't work to well.

The first three days after Dr Tranct told them, Stoic had insisted (or more like " **no** discussion about it") that they both stayed home. Hiccup silently thanked the stars for having someone next to him. Though on the fourth day, Hiccup was just as stubborn and forced his dad to go to work. There were some reasons to that, first of all he was completely suffocated. He'd never been one to get attention in general and his father never gave hugs or so on. It just got a little much for the boy, he simply needed some time for himself. Not having that constant reminder that he was actually dying.

Hiccup didn't even want to be home himself, all that did was remind him that he hadn't really got an ordinary life anymore. Still, he promised to stay home for at least a week or two. Honestly, maybe that was good. Being in shock or suddenly breaking down in school wasn't so great. Not that it was great in general, after only the past days he'd already been hardly hit by the news at different times. The first he dropped the glass of water he was holding and just stared out at nothing (scaring a certain protective father, for sure) and the second time just bursting down in tears without being able to even stand up. Still, he had yet to process and understand it all.

So for now he just settled with sitting in their old couch in his blue pajamas pants and a thick blanket around his shoulders while drawing in his notebook.

He'd nearly filled up an entire page with small random sketches, everything from a detailed hand to the Pokemon Squirtle, when there was a knock on the door.

Jumping a little bit in his seat from the sudden sound in the quiet house, Hiccup soon put down notebook, pen and blanket before heading to the door.

Hiccup opened the door just as the person outside was about to knock again, nearly hitting him on his nose.

"Astrid? What are you doing here?" He asked as he was met by the blonde. In the mess of everything, he'd yet to speak to either of his friends and his brain had been to messed up to even begin to worry about what Astrid would think of him. Would she just walk away, knowing there was no use and give up on him? Would she see him as weak or fragile or would she just be confused?

"Here asking what _you_ are doing here? You haven't been in school, and you're not answering any messages. If you're sick you could at least tell someone," she said while crossing her arms, not noticing the small wince Hiccup gave at 'sick'.

"I'm sorry, guess it's just been a lot going on, haven't checked my phone," he answered truthfully.

"So are you are sick?" She asked while crossing her muscular arms.

"...eh, I guess you could say that but Astrid-" Hiccup started but got cut of as Astrid grabbed his wrist and dragged him with into the house again.

"Great! Then I'll finally have a chance to make up that time you took care of me when I had chicken pox, I'll get you better in no time!" Once again, she didn't notice Hiccups wince. Nor his attempt of talking as she exclaimed too excitedly. "I can make you soup immediately," she said before disappearing into the kitchen area. The blonde had been in the house plenty of times seeing as they were best friends. Well, maybe more than that, but Hiccup wasn't sure, Astrid could be very confusing.

Sighing, Hiccup followed after her, not really understanding why she was so excited of taking care of him and having no idea how to tell her what was really going on. In the same time hoping he didn't have to. His didn't have a fever and beside being a bit pale and tired as he'd been the last few weeks, there were no real signs of him being sick. It had gone a little up and down with that already and this wasn't one of the bad days.

"Astrid," he said to get the girls attention as she took down some pepper from a shelf, then a mix of ingredients that Hiccup could already tell would make a dish just as bad as the other ones Astrid had made in her days.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" She answered before looking at him. "What kind of sick are you by the way? Contagious?"

Hiccup couldn't meet her gaze so he looked away, racking his brain of what to tell her. He couldn't make any words come out. What could he say? The truth? He didn't want Astrid to know, his father and Gobber already treated him too differently. Would she be concerned? Surprised? Angry? Maybe even all three of them...

After a couple of seconds silence Astrid spoke again. "Is something wrong?" She sounded a bit worried, something that only the auburn brunet seemed to be able to get from her.

He had to speak. Astrid was waiting for an answer and she looked at him weirdly in a mix of worry and confusion. Trying once again and failing to talk, Astrid ordered; "Okay, spit it out Haddock."

And Hiccup began to cry.

He didn't know why, it came so suddenly he was surprised himself, just like Astrid. He barely ever cried and especially not in front of anyone, he did it the first day after the diagnose but that was more hysterical than broken. Now tears where coming down his cheeks as if he'd only then realized how tough the coming weeks, months, would be, and he couldn't stop them. Instead he turned away so Astrid wouldn't see but she didn't seem to have the same idea.

"Hiccup!" She exclaimed as she searched desperately for something, maybe anything, to say. When she'd opened and closed her mouth a couple of times from the pure shock of the uncommon and unexpected situation. Finally, she just went on instinct and spun him back to face her, throwing her arms tightly around the shorter boy.

 **A/N: Sorry it was short, I'll try my best to update soon**.


	3. What if

**A/N: I understand if you hate me. I would too by now, but my computer crashed and all my data was deleted. I promise that the next chapter will be up within the week.**

 **If you have a wish for what persons POV or what to be about next, feel free to say.**

Astrids POV:

I wasn't sad when I got the news of my best friend having cancer. I wasn't mad at the disease for claiming him out of all people. I wasn't scared of loosing him, nor afraid of the difficult times to come.

No. I was neither of those, because by lord, those silly words weren't close to even partly describe anything of what I felt. I was so destroyed . Extremely furious. Broken and shattered. But maybe most of all, incredibly and utterly _terrified_.

Still, one of the feelings that shone most in my mind, was guilt. Self hatred. Because it was all _my_ _fault_.

It had started gradually. No one noticed. To say Hiccup had always been a fishbone would be an understatement. But step by step it was even worse and no one had reacted, not even I. _I should have_.

It wasn't until a warm day in April that the coin finally fell for me. In my room I had this area on the wall with pictures, right over my red bed. There were pictures of my family, friends, holidays, birthdays and competitions. Of course there were pictures of me and Hiccup there too. There was one that I really loved, where we both made silly grimaces at the camera, taken last year.

I was putting up another picture, also this one of me and Hiccup, playing cards on our living room floor. My mom had taken it two days ago without us even knowing about it. That wasn't such a big deal anymore, my mother was kind of obviously shipping us or whatever, always teasing about our relationship to each other. So she liked to take pictures of us and it was actually a nicely taken picture for once. What I reacted to though was that Hiccup wore the same shirt as in the picture next to it, the one taken almost a year ago.

Of course, that wasn't a big deal either, I still wore clothes older than that. The problem was how it fitted. The light blue shirt was obviously sitting much looser on the second picture. My eyes widened, and I stared intently at the details after that. I could have sworn that even Hiccups cheeks were more sunken in.

After that day I started to notice other things too. Like how he would have less energy and very cold hands.

I'd stupidly jumped to a conclusion immediately and stuck to it like glue.

Anorexia.

And I had confronted him in school of all places. I can not for the life of me figure out why I did that. And we'd fought. I'd never been so mad at him before, because he lied straight up to my face. I knew he starved himself, refused food or threw it, or even all of them. Because my mind just couldn't comprehend that there could've possibly been something even worse hiding behind it.

Stage three cancer.

I threw up when I was told. After the fight, I hadn't talked to Hiccup for two weeks, refusing with all the stubbornness in me. Of course, I couldn't stay mad forever and gradually I actually started to give up- something that only the brunette boy could seem to make me do. So when he didn't show up in school for a couple of days, I went to his place. In my head I had this plan, if he wouldn't confess to me when I didn't talk to him, maybe he would if I actually tried the honey way for once. Lirk it out with kindness of sort. Of course I hadn't expected him to collapse into tears!

It had taken up to two full hours, during the time I kind of believed Stoick had died or something because just like me, Hiccup certainly wasn't the type to cry. I'd never seen him that broken and it ripped at my heart. Of course, it completely exploded when he finally confessed the disease.

I felt for killing myself. I _knew_ something was wrong months ago and I hadn't forced him to see a doctor, hadn't told Stoick, hadn't believed him when he told me how he honestly tried to ate regularly but just hadn't been able to do so lately. And I hadn't done that and I did that and ignored this and then when the cancer was detected it was stage three. Stage _three_. And it was. All. My. Fault.

When the doctors figured it out, Hiccup was immediately put on acute chemo-therapy. The first round started already two weeks after. A problem was that they were expensive, leaving Mr Haddock to continue working in order to afford the treatments. Hiccup wasn't supposed to be left alone though while undergoing it, but luckily both my family and his dads best friend, called Gobber, helped out on that. Not that they could have kept me away anyway.

Though Hiccup wasn't always the simplest person to watch after. He would always run around or do something while his mind went on in 180. It was kind of depressing watching the once lively boy so tired. It was Saturday and I was going to stay the entire day, and sadly it was a bad one. But it hadn't started out that way, so Hiccup had convinced me to go out with him. Just a simple walk that any other boy at 16 should be able to handle.

I understood that it must be frustrating to spend so much time inside so I agreed. After just walking for maybe 8 minutes though, Hiccup had to sit down again so we stopped by a bench. I slowly helped him down and watched worriedly as he gripped his head in pain while sighing in frustration.

And so we sat there for a while, not saying a word until the brunette finally sat up straight again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze. I sighed sadly and draped an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't be. You promised me to take it easy, right?"

He sighed too before nodding with a small smile that wasn't able to convince many. "Right."

"You should go ahead and get some sleep," I proposed, though I felt more for demanding it.

"I always sleep," he mumbled and I don't even think I was supposed to hear it. Still I let out a small laugh in a try to lift his spirits a bit. It hurt my heart to see him down. Especially since he was always so upbeat, so positive. I shouldn't lie though, there had been more moments when he would see me sad over the situation than the other way around. Of course I would do my best to hide it and stay 'strong' for his sake, but it was hard. I couldn't possibly stand loosing him, he meant too much for me for that to be possible.

Carefully getting a hold on his right arm I slowly helped the boy up. I knew I kind of treated him like he was made of glass, but I knew that he'd been and were at the moment in a lot of pain and exhaustion that I would never dream of adding to (no matter how much I wanted to punch his arm black and blue for setting me on this emotional rollercoaster).

I would prefer carrying him the rest of the way but even my stubborn self realized that he too was way to stubborn for that to happen.

So we slowly began the trek back, luckily we hadn't gone far. It was silent for most of the way, me being lost in my thoughts and Hiccup probably just concentration on putting one foot in front of the other to not collapse.

When we finally made it back to the Haddock household it was still empty. I knew that Mr Haddock would have wanted to stay home with his child (wouldn't every parent?) but today was another workday.

As Hiccups bony hand slightly shook in the effort, I immediately grabbed the household keys and opened the front-door, not letting go of the boy until I'd sat him down on the brown couch. Almost immediately he lay down with a yawn and I took a thick blanket that rested on a chair next to the bigger furniture before sitting down next to him, in the space between his bent legs.

The brunette boy smiled apolitically at me as he was clearly on the verge of passing out. I smiled too and decided to talk before he'd try to. "Sleep. You've been awake for a long time, and I'll stay right here, okay?"

I was pretty sure he fell asleep before I even finished speaking. I felt my heart being pressured yet a little bit more. I hated that he tried to pressure himself so much, but I understood.

I gently brushed away some auburn strands from his forehead and felt the now familiar fear creeping up. He'd gotten so weak. So... fragile. The chemo-therapy was pulling just as large a toll as the cancer itself.

...What if he didn't survive? What if I'd never talk to him again, if we'd never laugh together, never joke around, and what if I'd be left to live without ever looking into those sparkling green emeralds ever again? What if everything they had just **_ended_**?

I caught my breath sharply and shook my head, making even more strands fall out of my already loosening braid. I was going to stay _positive_. Stay _strong_. I was.

"You'll be fine," I whispered out loud, just to reassure myself. Still, I hated myself for the eternal doubt and fear that just didn't want to leave. Because _what if?_


	4. Maybe

**Hiccup's POV**

I sighed quietly as I looked out at the passing landscape. It was nothing that wasn't familiar, I had lived in the city of Berk for my entire life and it wasn't that big. Actually, it was more of a big island than city. It was located pretty far away from the mainland of Norway, you had to take a ferry for an hour to reach. So therefor we'd built up a hospital and other necessitates here. That hospital wasn't where we were heading though. No, we were supposed to go onto this ferry and to a hospital in Oslo that "Had more experienced doctors on this fine matter," according to doctor Tranct. Fine matter. That's what she'd called it. That's _not_ what it was.

I looked down at my legs and couldn't help but curl them up in my seat. I knew I wasn't supposed to do that as I could damage the seat leather. My dad didn't say anything though, but he hadn't scolded me for almost anything the last months.

Yeah, it had been six months and seven days (since the diagnose anyway, apparently it had started out long before). I wish I could have put an 'already' in that sentence but that wasn't the case. This year had been the longest in my life so far and I knew it was far from over. The next challenge was up for me and I felt nauseous just thinking about it.

I practically hadn't gone to school since the diagnose. Just during a week and a half, after that I started on the first round of chemo therapy and as it turned out that no cancer cells were removed during that one, the next started up soon after. I was barely able to walk during those weeks and I'd never felt so weak before. We visited the hospital maybe three times a week, and here I am thankful to say that yes 'we', my father was with me. I wouldn't have been able to handle much if he hadn't. One time it was very acute, in the middle of the night and I found myself being unable to breath through the pain. I honestly can't put together the bits and pieces of that night, it had been a big blur to me, but the fear and pain still remained etched in my memory.

After that night, (it occurred twenty five days ago) it was "Time for drastic methods."

So here we were, Saturday morning and heading towards Oslo's biggest hospital. The ride had been deadly silent except an occasion "You good?" from Stoick and a nod in response. I suspected he knew I wasn't but it didn't matter much. I couldn't bring myself to talk, I was too nervous, too _scared,_ and I was grateful that he didn't pressure me.

The basics were already done at Berk, they were nothing too bad, just eternal x-rays and tons of blood samples and so on. Things that I could handle. Would I be able to handle this? I tried to tell myself that, yes, of course I would, things could be worse and it's for the best and my dad would be there with me.

I sighed yet again, staring out at the passing trees, and I couldn't help but really wanting to open the door to the car and just get out, run as fast as I could and jump the highest possible.

I looked at the clock on the headboard. Exactly ten o'clock. Exactly twenty two hours left.

I blinked my eyes open slowly. Everything was a blur and I felt so incredibly tired. It took some time for my exhausted mind to comprehend what was going on. I took in the white walls of the hospital just as fear was about to grab me. Though it did either way as I suddenly snap to full consciousness, bolt up and stare at the blanket covering my legs. There were two bumps, one I was familiar to and one that ended unnaturally early. I gasped , despite myself. I was so stupid! What had I expected? That the doctors would just change their minds and the operation would be skipped?

That didn't mean that it wasn't painful to see the loss of my entire lower leg. Speaking of painful, suddenly I fell back down on the bed in dizziness from sitting up so fast. At the same time I was aware of the pain spiraling up and down my leg. It was dulled, as I'd probably gotten a lot of medicine, but the pain was still there along with a strange sensation of my leg just... _ending_. To say the least, I did NOT look forward to the phantom pains.

Once again I tried to stop the negative thoughts. Hopefully most of the tumor was gone by now, as very much had been located in my left leg. The chemo didn't work so well so it was kind of a risk to take in hope of removal, so that daughter tumors later could be removed by laser methods.

I try to smile just to lift my own spirits. Maybe the worst was over now.

When it was all over, I would learn to walk on a prosthetic and I _would_ run and I _would_ jump again. I would be just another normal boy that just worries over normal things like what high school to choose or how to understand girls. _Normal_.

Yeah. Maybe the worst really was over now.

 **Stoick's POV**

"Here, I'll help you-" I offered immediately, my overprotective mother-hen side being as clear as usually these days.

"No thanks, I'll manage," my son said between slightly gritted teeth before shooting me a quick smile and continuing his little struggle to get across the gravel path. _A simple shore that any sixteen year old should be able to handle without any problem,_ I thought sadly as I walked behind him painfully slowly. The wheels kept getting stuck between stones and the slight uphill didn't help either.

After the short distance finally was over the wheelchair suddenly came to a stop and I looked ahead to see what the problem was. Our small porch.

"Hey, it's okay," I try to comfort as he stares at it.

"Yeah," he replies stiffly. I move forward and carefully but clumsily lift up the wheelchair on the porch and proceed to open the front door before moving in. I took of my jacket and watched in the corner of my eye how my son took of his without too much of a trouble.

"Scale of one to ten?" I asked quietly when he was done and he looked away before replying.

"Two." I nodded.

"Do you need help with anything? "

There was a slight pause before Hiccup answered. "I'm pretty tired?"

I nodded once again. "Okay, sleep well son." I walked to the kitchen and leaved the keys on the table before grabbing a beer in the fridge to cool my nerves of a bit. Though when I returned to the kitchen, Hiccup was still parked in the exact same spot as I'd left him. "Weren't you going to bed?" I ask with slight concern.

"Yeah, um, but I... Well the bed is kinda upstairs," he said with a small gesture to the steep staircase. I felt stupid as he said it and scolded myself immediately.

"Of course, I'll help you," I said and jogged over the small distance before scooping my son up in my broad arms with just as little trouble as when he was a new born. I had tried to get the lad to eat more but lately all he could possibly keep down was white bread, so that process was just going downhill. He yelped a little in surprise but didn't protest. I was going to move Hiccups bed to our office downstairs and let it serve as a temporary bedroom, knowing I probably should have done that as soon as he started having problem walking. Who knew how much damage a tumble down the stairs could cause in his fragile state.

I felt him slightly (probably unconsciously) nestle down in the warmth of my arms and I smiled sadly. Just like when he was a little baby. He was _still_ my little baby. And he needed me so much during this fight. I wondered if he knew how much I needed him too. Because I wouldn't be able to survive without my boy. Wouldn't want to.


	5. Meeting their stares

**A/N: Hey guys. I am fully and well aware that I am updating this story INCREDIBLY slowly. And I've realized that the reason wasn't being sick or in Germany for weeks without internet. I feel frightened every time I update this story because I'm really scared that someone will take offense or feel hurt or something along those lines. It's an incredibly sensitive subject after all. Therefore the next is the last chapter. There's been a reason from the start why I wrote this and it will be written in the end notes.**

When Hiccup entered the school, every conversation in the hall slowly seemed to die down. As he walked by he was trying not to glance at everyone seemingly staring openly at him, some whispering. Amongst the faces of students mixes of pity, shock, confusion and some with sneers. Hiccup warily glanced around at the teens and only then did some seem to realize they'd been staring and looking away with innocent looks as if they hadn't. It was no question about it though, it was him they watched, whispered and thought about. Dread filled the auburn haired boy as the only reason immediately connected in his head.  
 _  
They know? How?! Dad promised he wouldn't tell anyone yet, I haven't and_... Gobber. He knew. Dad told his best friend, principal of the school, if he told another teacher, many of the teachers have kids here or someone could have heard a conversation or-...

It seemed to take forever before Hiccup finally reached his locker that would normally be eight seconds from the entrance, head swirling with thousands of thoughts. Fumbling with his locker as his hands slowly started to shake he heard the conversations around slowly start to grow again. It didn't take a genius to figure out that most were both him no matter how much he wished they wouldn't be, some in hushed whispers and others in a tone that was overly loud to make sure that he heard. In the end it didn't matter, because to Hiccup, every word seemed to bounce around sharply between the metal lockers.

"I wonder why he's in school. I mean, I thought cancer did some serious sh*t, you know?"

"I heard it was a lie. Like come on, he's just looking for attention!"

"Poor guy. Though hope we won't need to do cards later, I hate drawing."

"Maybe lung? He's probably one of those huge smokers, no normal teen can get cancer without a reason or something, right?"

"Is that him? Can't imagine what it must be like."

"Then it won't be long before his daddy ditches him, never around anyway so why stick with a dying child? At least that's what my mom thinks and she knows Mr Haddock pretty well."

After grabbing his books Hiccup slammed his locker shut, something he never would have done on any normal day but he literally couldn't help it. He just wished that he could shut his ears as easily.  
Walking down the hallway had always been a bit of a hard task for the boy. No big reason, just the normal everyday bullying; pushes, jeers, tricks and the occasional beatings. Sadly his school hadn't exactly reached very far on avoiding the subject. But he couldn't remember a time when the walk to his first period was as challenging as the one he had the first day returning to school after receiving the news. It felt like every single soul was judging him, the ones who didn't look at him with pity looked at him with disgust, hate or with pondering. Neither of them seemed to be better than the other.

Still, he held his head high; one of the few things his father actually did manage to teach him, and walked through the hall. No one stopped him and after a long eternity, he was safe in the math classroom.

There were only three students there, Merida, a girl that otherwise used to be pretty late, Heather, and Finn or 'Fishlegs', who was always very early. Hiccup was a little glad that he wasn't the only one in the world with a strange nickname. He'd been named 'Hayden' at birth, but since his mother died his father had taken to call him 'Hiccup'. When he'd asked repeatedly why, he would never get an answer. Years later, he managed to find the meaning on a page consistent of information of the Vikings, something his father was very fascinated with. "The runt". It hadn't hurt to badly as he'd always known this, but it turned more complicated when his cousin Scott heard of it and suddenly his name wasn't Hayden any longer. He'd gotten so used to Hiccup that he even called himself that now, and so it didn't really matter.

As he sat down he realized that he forgot to go and meet up with Astrid as he always did on Wednesdays. He sighed but didn't get up, he'd gotten enough looks this morning and not only did it mean he had to go through the corridors and back again, but the worst part were the looks Astrid would give him. Concerned and so, so sad, something that Hiccup hated when Astrid was feeling, while hating himself even more for being the reason for it.

Suddenly his thoughts were broken as someone stood before him giving a light cough to get his attention. Hiccups head snapped up and met the eyes of their Design teacher, Johanna Öberg. She wore colorful clothes as always, necklaces around her neck together with a green dress. It was hard not to miss the pity in her blue eyes. He felt for looking down as soon as he noticed it but kept his gaze as the teacher began to talk.

"Hey Hayden," she started with a smile. She was probably the only person in the entire word to actually go with his birth name. "How are you doing this fine evening?"

Hiccup looked at her silently for a second to complement an answer. She knew too, her smile was sad and her eyes just kept radiating that awful pity. But he knew she was just being nice and caring, so he answered politely. "I'm fine, thank you Mrs."

She nodded, but somehow it looked like she wanted a different answer. Well she wouldn't get that.

"You know..." She started slowly and leaned down to his chair level, close his ear as if they shared a secret. "If you ever want or need someone to talk too, I'm always here."

He nodded and forced on a smile. He appreciated that she cared, though he'd heard that phrase more times in a weed than his earlier years of life. That and "How are you?", "Does it hurt?", "Do you need any help?". They all cared and Hiccup hated himself for hating that. But no one ever cared before, one diagnosis and suddenly he wasn't invisible anymore.

And that's how it continued. For every lesson, teacher after teacher and even students that he was pretty sure hadn't even heard his name before that week, came to him with the same speech. The talking in the halls didn't subdue either. There was always someone pointing, staring. Luckily for him he guessed, Astrid stayed by his side between every lesson and the ones they shared, glaring at commentators and even punching a guy who said "Obviously the brat's only faking it for attention" to their faces.

Hiccup stared out of the window of their last period, Astrid clasping his hand under the table, neither doing their assignment.

It had been hard taking the first day in school. Even harder with the knowledge that in below two weeks, he would start acute treatment and he probably wouldn't return for a long time. Hearing the talk about his sickness still go around, as well as sensing Astrids glares which shifted to concerned looks, he had a hard time remembering why exactly he went to school at all.

Maybe he just felt the need to have something, anything, normal left. Too bad that didn't work out.


	6. Zero

**19 months later..**

 **Hiccup's POV**

"Come on, it's okay, you'll be okay," my dad mumbled over and over again as he held my hand impossibly tight. I couldn't even feel that anymore. Everything was hurting and it seemed that the world was under water, everything dull and blurry.

More words were exchanged but I couldn't make them out. Everything was going in and out of focus. Was someone crying..?

Was _I_ crying..? Don't know.. Everything hurt. Even _thinking_ hurt. More loud sounds and more blurry movements. _What was going on?_

I wanted to scream but I couldn't. _Why did it hurt_?

The blurry image of a scenery I couldn't grasp was slowly darkening. I didn't want it to. I tried to will the darkness away but it didn't work. Still I kept on trying.

The pain was beyond unbearable, but suddenly it didn't hurt any more. Nothing did. I couldn't feel anything at all, and somehow I knew that it wasn't a good thing. When the pain ended abruptly I could hear the shades of frantic shouts again, though as if from very far away.

Someone asked something though I didn't know what. Why did they want to know? I could only remember one question, the one every doctor asked me every time I had to see one. Suddenly I could see my dads contrast again. He was crying, something I'd only seen him do a few times during the last two years.

I managed to smile at him, small, weak and sad, but a smile nonetheless.

"...Zero..."

That was probably the first and last time I'd ever answered a hundred percent truthfully to that question, even if I wasn't even sure if it was even asked. Didn't really matter.

I couldn't help it- my eyes finally closed.

 **They all told me to fight. Over and over again, stay strong and** ** _don't give up_** **.**

 **I didn't give up. I didn't stop fighting. Heaven knows I fought to my last breath.**

 **No, I didn't give up. But my heart stopped beating anyway.**

 **Stoick's POV**

I walked heavily down the stairs, too tired to walk straight or bother to remove that strand of beard from my right eye. I suppressed a mighty yawn as I looked at our old gray clock hanging on the far wall of our living room. It was still early for a Saturday but I didn't even try to fall back asleep when I woke up gasping. Memories from _that_ night were still haunting my dreams. How could they _not_? Begging to every God I'd ever known that my son would be okay, just before hearing the sound no parent should ever have to bear through. The sound of a weak heartbeat turning to flatlining.

Letting my eyes fall slightly from the clock I saw the wheelchair in the corner. It looked empty without it's owner. It hadn't been used for a while now and it probably would never be again.

Tearing away my gaze I continued towards the kitchen. Walking to one of the cupboards, one that Hiccup never was able to reach up to, I pulled out one of my red mugs. When I poured up coffee I saw another familiar thing. A white box, barely visible as it hid under my microwave. There were still pills rolling around there, painkillers and antidepressants among them. Probably never to be taken.

I shock my head and replaced it in a medicincabinet next to all the cups and muggs. That's when I suddenly heard a series of small bangs from the living room.

Rushing out of the kitchen in a frantic panic on a hundred percent I stared up.

My panic dimmed immediately when I saw a long object by my bare feet and a sheepish-looking brunette, understanding what had happened.

Hiccup leaned against the wall for balance as his crutch had fallen down with many bangs. "Oops," was the only word he let out before giving me a slightly sheepish smile.

"Yeah. Oops." I repeated with a slight smirk of my own before it immediately fell when my son began climbing down the stairs without the medical support. "Oh no you don't!" I scolded, not wasting time in picking up the crutch, simply strolling up the staircase and lifting him up bridal style.

He didn't even bother to whine as it definitely wasn't the first time my overprotective mother-hen side had kicked in and I'd picked him up. Guessing he'd finally learned that he simply didn't have a say in the matter.

"It's bad enough that you don't use the wheelchair, Hiccup, can't you at least use _two_ crutches? Your prosthetic is still new."

"Not _that_ new," Hiccup defended his item and looked down at his feet as I carried him down. His pajamapants hid how high up it went but it was clear one of his feet was artificial. Still, it was shaped and colored pretty alike so it would be hard to tell the difference with shoes.

As I had understood it, Hiccup wasn't embarrassed by the fact he'd got a fake leg, he was just still getting used to the difference and didn't want to sign it out. For me it just served as an eternal reminder of how close cancer had been to taking my boy.

It was a miracle. That's what everyone said. And perhaps it was, perhaps some great power decided not to be so cruel or perhaps

Those perhapses couldn't have meant less to me. Nothing did. Nothing except that my baby boy were still alive in my arms, beautiful heart once again beating after a seven seconds pause. Those seven seconds were the worst in my life but the same night I experienced my best. Because I did see those emerald eyes that were my wife's and boy's again.

That night was a turning point. The tumors actually disappeared bit by bit, and yes, I will not lie, it still wasn't close to easy. Hiccup went through pain no boy nor man should have to endorse and he got through. I was so proud and so relieved, but most of all simply so very, very _happy_.

And maybe his prosthetic served to be an eternal reminder that cancer almost claimed him.

It couldn't matter less to me, because the rest of him is an eternal reminder that he pulled through.

That he fought with everything he had and he didn't leave me.

Because that's how it ended. Cancer **almost** claimed him.

It fucking didn't.

 **A/N: So here's the reason I wrote this story to begin with; CANCER IS BEATABLE. Everyone knows this but it's true and it's very, very important to remember. Sadly very many can name someone with cancer today. Cancer is not death. Cancer is so horrible and terrible in every way but it's not death. Fight. Never give up. It doesn't matter if you've heard that a million times because I'll make it a million and one. Be it cancer or anorexia, depression or addiction, stress or anything. Believe you'll get through, believe he or she will get through, just try your best to believe. That can make a long distance. I send my best to all you freaking amazing individuals,**

 **-Hug MJ**


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